Sanctuary
by Light's Panties
Summary: The worst thing about seeing your love lie in the hospital on the brink of death, is knowing that it should have been you. - Lithuania/Poland, T for violence.


**A/N: So I started this fic when I got this laptop like eight months ago. Abandoned it after like, a day. JUST FINISHED IT NOW**. **Oh yeeeah booooi. Need more hetalia stuff on my . **

**It's kinda angsty, baaaw. I was gonna have it end different, but you know what I'm liiiike.**

**Pairing: Lithuania/Poland, with a little Lithuania/Russia and Poland/Russia on the side.  
>Rating: T – for violence and swearing.<br>Summary: Russia loses his shit and goes bonkers on Liet, Poland intervenes with gay powers (except more serious than that)**

**ENJOY. **

**./. **

"Sir?"

I looked up, the bright white walls hurting my eyes a little. "Y-yes?" I responded weakly, leaving the young nurse looking a little concerned.

"Visiting hours are over... unless you want to spend the night... you'll have to leave."

I frowned. "I guess I'll go... I was supposed to leave hours ago, but I always feel bad if I don't stay here a while."

I slapped my hand to my mouth. After the words had slipped out, I felt even more guilty. That's what it had become. A routine. I never visited his hospital room because of genuine emotion anymore; I only visited because I felt obligated to. And because I felt obligated to, I felt guilty, and then I had to stay even longer. I never questioned this routine because I was scared that the day I wouldn't be there would be the day he'd wake up.

"I think I'll stay." I sighed. "Is it allowed?"

"Well..." She looked down at the chart she was clutching. "You're his official guardian at the moment, so if I can see some identification...?"

I pulled out my wallet with another sigh and passed her my licence. She looked down at the little card and nodded before handing it back to me.

"Toris Laurinaitis?" She asked, stumbling a little on my surname. I nodded. "You can stay in the spare bed in this room, please don't hesitate to call the nurse's station if anything happens."

I simply pocketed my wallet, and she walked out. I didn't even have any stuff to stay over with; I didn't have pyjamas, I didn't have my toothbrush, I didn't have anything except a giant feeling of guilt welling in my stomach. I couldn't believe I'd said that. I couldn't believe that I thought of visiting him as just a _routine_. What if he could hear what I said? What if he was angry, and couldn't even _do_ anything about it? I bit my lip and blinked away the tears that were pricking at my eyes. He looked so vulnerable in that hospital bed. He wasn't energetic and full of life. He was connected to a life-support machine and couldn't even move a finger.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled, slipping off my chair and onto my knees, my hands resting on the cold sheets. "It should be me in that bed, not you. I should be more considerate of what you did for me"

Nothing. In the movies, the main character cries and apologises to the person in the coma, and then they wake up. They're both overjoyed. They both live happily ever after. But he was still asleep. No movement, just the steady beep which gave the only hint that there was any life left in him. Tears trickled down my cheeks. It may have become routine over the months that he'd been asleep, but sometimes it just broke me. I couldn't stand seeing him so helpless and so lifeless. It wasn't right. He always came back – _always_. I stroked his pale hand, my breath coming out in uneven little gasps.

"_Please_?" I squeaked. "Wake up?"

Suddenly, I leapt to my feet. The machine that beeped every so often to tell whoever was there that his heart was beating wasn't beeping regularly. It was beeping quickly, in different tones. I was never a medical expert, but I knew that something was wrong. I grabbed the phone on the bedside table and pressed the number for the nurse's station.

"Yes?"

"Quick! I'm in room 107! _Something's wrong_!" I squeaked, fresh tears dribbling from my eyes. "He- I think his heart..."

"We'll be right there!"

I dropped the phone and stood by the bed, quivering. If he died... I couldn't bear to think about it. It would be my fault. I would never be able to go on without him. The doctors told me to wait outside while they were doing something, I didn't know what they were doing to him but I clasped my hands together and prayed that it would work. I was sitting on the very edge of my chair, trying not to focus on what the doctors were saying. I didn't want to know what was going on. I only wanted him to stay safe.

"F-Feliks?" I whispered. "I-I'm so sorry..."

I thought it would help. I don't know why, but I just thought it might.

"I never should have let you near him." My lower lip curled, the tears dripped from my chin and wetting my jacket. "You didn't have to try and protect me..."

It had started back when I was working for Ivan Braginski. The notorious Russian businessman; I made a lot of money, but what went on was kept behind closed doors. I was a slave to him during work hours. Sure, I got paid well and the few other people Ivan actually had employed were sweet to me, but Ivan was a horror movie in human form.  
>If you didn't get something done fast enough, you were punished.<br>If you didn't do something his way, you were punished.  
>If you did it perfectly, you were still punished.<br>And thanks to one Hell of a well-worked out contract, none of us could quit without being sued or even arrested. I was so used to the beatings that they didn't even bother me. I'd go home to my flat every night and just try and avoid seeing the wounds on my back, and I'd be fine. But it all changed when Feliks came back.

We'd been separated since we were teenagers, but somehow, he'd found his way back into my life. That was the day that I realised I wouldn't die by Ivan's hand. He'd pick me up from work every day, sometimes he'd come and help out. Ivan never laid a finger – or a knife – on Feliks, and if Feliks was around me, I'd never get hurt either. After a while, we bought a place together. A big, spacious flat with amazing views and according to Feliks, amazing interior design. I had to make sure that he never saw my back, which meant that we always undressed in the dark, but he never seemed to mind. I never asked for a lot, but he always did it if I asked him. Of course, he _did_ ask a lot, but he was sweet to me. So much different from Ivan.

Ivan hated Feliks at first, he hated the idea of me being taken away. But after a year or so, it reversed. Feliks spent a lot of time at work with me, and he was different to us. He wasn't cruel like Ivan, but he wasn't shy like me or my co-workers. Feliks was rebellious and cheeky, and I think he might have been the only person to ever get a flicker of fear out of Ivan. And I could see there was something about that. Ivan liked it – he liked the attitude and the spunk and the don't-you-mess-with-me smirk.

That scared me even more.

Ivan was after Feliks. He'd watch him when he lounged around, unblinking and totally still. He'd ask me if I was being picked up by Feliks. He even punished me less.

But it was never a bed of roses.

Feliks had come early to pick me up, and was waiting for me to finish some paperwork. I never did find out how Ivan could always watch us but he managed to.

"Come _on_, Liet!" Feliks moaned. "Just, like, _one_ kiss..."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine..."

The blonde grabbed me by the tie and pulled my head up for a passionate kiss. His lips locked with mine, and I saw his bright blue eyes close and felt him smile. His hand slid onto my head, twirling my hair in his fingers. I put one hand on his face and stroked his cheek, his skin soft and smooth under my palm. It was heaven, and I would have loved to kiss him forever, but I was still pretty much terrified of Ivan. Feliks didn't care about that though, and his hands moved to the front of my shirt, fingering the buttons. My face flushed and I could feel my heartbeat speed up; that was the effect Feliks had on me. He had that effect on everyone. The way he talked, the way he would fold his arms and just give you a _look_. The entire human population was putty in his hands.

"S-stop, Feliks..." I muttered.

"Aw, Liet..." Feliks cooed, his bright emerald eyes glinting with mischief. "What's, like, wrong?"

"I-Ivan won't like it if we do this while I'm working..."

"Do you really care what that, like, _asshole_ thinks?"

I shook my head nervously. I didn't want Feliks to think I was a wimp, but I really _did_ care. Ivan was terrifying, and the scars that littered my back were a testimony to that.

"Look, F-Feliks?" I mumbled. "Why don't you wait in the lobby on the sofas? I'll be done soon..."

"Whatever you say, Liet" He skipped out of the room, pausing for a second to blow me a kiss and give a cheeky wink, but then he was gone. I sighed with relief. Feliks's presence alone was enough to distract me from work, but once he was out of my hearing range, I pressed my pen to my paper and continued work.

"Are you _working_, da?"

I bit my lip and looked up. Ivan was standing at the doorway, blocking the only way out. His huge, pale blue eyes were wide and unblinking, and he was smiling sweetly. A sweet smile might have reassured me that nothing was wrong if my boss was anyone else, but with Ivan, that sweet and childish smile could only mean bad things.

"O-Of course!" I stammered.

"Then why aren't you finished?" His voice was like thick syrup. Sickening.

"I-I..."

The tall blonde shook his head and chuckled. He took a few steps over to my desk, and traced my jaw line with a cold finger. "You were kissing your friend, weren't you?"

"Y-Yes!" My voice cracked. "I was still working... Ivan..."

"Shh..." He licked his lips. "You're very lucky."

I stared up at him and our gazes met. Jealously flickered in his eyes and he clenched his fist around a lock of my hair. "Don't think that you can get away with this."

"W-What do you mean?"

He laughed and the sweet smile disappeared. He closed the door and clicked the lock into place. The room suddenly seemed darker, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to escape. I could see it in his eyes. Of course, there were always rumours circulating about Ivan Braginski. They said he could kill without a second glance, but I never actually believed that until he glared at me from across the room. He wanted to end my life, right there, right then.

Because of Feliks.

Not the kissing, not the distraction. He wanted to kill me because I had Feliks. I had what he wanted, and he would do anything to get it. I was frozen to my chair. I'd never thought about death until that moment. I'd assumed that I would live a long life, that one day I'd get away from Ivan and stay with Feliks until one day we died in each other's arms.  
>But Ivan wanted me to die there. He wanted my blood to pool on my desk, my eyes glazed and my mouth still hanging open from the scream.<p>

"Y-you're going to kill me..." I whimpered. "No..."

"Yes." He slid his hand into one of the deep pockets on his coat. "I want to hear your scream, da"

I should have tried to get away. I should have ran for the window and tried to leave, or _something._ But I couldn't move. All I could think of was the life I would miss. Of _Feliks_. He would be sat in the lobby at that moment, probably chatting with some other people who might have been there. As far as he knew, I was finishing up paperwork. Maybe he was thinking about what we'd do that night; we'd drive home and have dinner, and then maybe we'd watch a movie and go to bed.  
>And in a few minutes, he'd have new thoughts. He'd have to plan a funeral, find a way to pay the rent on our flat and fail. He'd be evicted and have to find a new place. Ivan would be after him. He'd fall apart. Ivan would offer him sanctuary. He'd have no other choice but to accept. Then he would be in the same position that I was in. Would it happen all over again, but with him?<p>

I couldn't let that happen.

I had to live, no matter what.

"I-Ivan..." I stood up, shaking uncontrollably. "Don't do this. Please... I..."

He drew his hand from his pocket. A gun. I wasn't surprised at all, but then he reached into his coat and pulled out a metal pipe. I wasn't just going to die. I was going to suffer.

"You don't understand, Toris..." He muttered. "There's some things that have to be done, da"

I took a step back, and he lunged. The pipe swung round and hit me hard in the stomach. I fell to my knees, coughing. When I looked up, he was standing over me. His eyes were glinting with malice, and the grin he wore was even scarier than his sickly sweet smile. The gun was in his left hand, the pipe in his right. The pistol's safety catch was on, and I knew that he wanted to mess with me before he killed me. I'd been beaten by Ivan before, but it was always just punches and kicks, maybe a cut or two occasionally. This was something else. The way he held the pipe with ease in his long fingers and the dark red stain on the end proved that he had used it before.

He lifted it above his head, and brought it down sharply on my shoulder. I screamed out in pain, feeling the bone crack. It throbbed with flaming agony, and tears trickled down my cheeks.

"I-Ivan... please..." I coughed. Blood came out.

The tall Russia fingered the stained end of his pipe, scratching at it until the rust-red stain was on his fingernails. "This end, I use for stabbing through people's heads, da." He explained. Then he twirled the pipe round and showed me the curved end. "This one is for beating."

I nodded weakly, unable to do anything but focus on staying conscious. My shoulder was in agony, and my stomach was throbbing. I propped myself up with my uninjured arm, resting my left as gently as I could on my knees. Ivan smiled sickeningly at me, lifting my chin with the curved end of the pipe.

"Have you had enough yet, da?" He asked, a murderous glint in his violet eyes.

I was going to say yes, but then it hit me: if I said yes, I'd be dead. He was either going to spare me suffering and kill me right away, or keep torturing me until I begged for death. But death wasn't an option. I couldn't leave Feliks. If I died, he'd be a shell of his former self and I couldn't let that happen. Maybe if I endured the beating long enough, he'd come to find me. Maybe he'd call the police. Maybe he'd help, somehow. So I shook my head, and Ivan's grin widened.

"Good, da. I'm having fun!" He lifted the pipe high above his head again and brought it crashing down on my injured shoulder.

I screamed in even more agony. There was a sudden dampness on my skin, and I realised that the edge of the pipe must have drawn blood. I glanced at my shoulder through a blur of tears and saw a dark patch growing on my shirt and tricking down my sleeve. There was a little rip in the fabric, and blood was spilling out. Ivan laughed and looked at the edge of the pipe – smeared with blood. _My_ blood. The blonde brought the pipe up to his lips and let his tongue snake out to taste the blood. He chuckled with horrifying delight, looking down on me and seeming almost proud of himself.

"Your blood tastes sweet, da." He cooed, leaning forward and prodding my hurt shoulder. I screamed as pain shot through it, almost as though I could actually feel the breaks thanks to the sheer agony penetrating right to the bone. Ivan's face darkened. "No screaming, da. You have just lost your right to choose whether you get to live or die."

"N-No..." I whimpered. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't take the pain anymore, but I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready – there were so many things I would like to have done, so many things I wished I _had_ done. Ivan twirled the pipe around and rested the killing end on my head. The cold steel made me shiver, and a tear dripped down onto the floor in front of my knees. "P-Please..."

Ivan laughed. "And now you are begging for your life, da. Pathetic." He lifted the pipe up, gripping it tightly with both hands. This was where it was going to end. I was going to die.  
>I flinched when the door smashed. I think Ivan did as well – when I looked up he'd turned around, and his pipe was hanging by his side. The door hung on by one of its hinges, and with one more hit, it came down.<p>

"Like, get the _fuck_ away from him!" Feliks screamed, wielding the chair he held with much more confidence than I ever could have imagined. I wanted to jump for joy right there, but I was paralysed from fear and pain.

"So you have come to save your boy, da?" Ivan said, the lilting tone of sweetness back in his voice.

"What have you, like, _done_ to him?" Feliks yelled, his voice wobbling from either anger or fear – it was hard to tell.

"He does not deserve you, da." Ivan chanted in his singsong voice. "You need somebody who challenges you, da."

When I looked up, Feliks was bringing the chair down as hard as he could on Ivan, but the Russian held his pipe up with one hand and blocked it easily. "Wrong choice, da!" Ivan chuckled. I bit my lip; Ivan swung his pipe and smashed the chair with ease. Feliks dropped the last chunk of wood and folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head.

"I'm still not gonna let you touch him!" He glared defiantly at the much taller man. "You can hit me with that pipe as much as you want. You can even, like, _kill_ me. But you will _not_ touch Liet."

"How will you stop me, da?"

"Pfft." Feliks rolled his eyes. "The kid in the lobby has already rung the cops. Get as many hits in as you want."

Even when he looked murderous, Ivan had always had that childish look about him. He'd always looked somewhat naive and sweet. But when Feliks said that, something changed. The smile faded from Ivan's face, and the playfulness faded from his eyes. Something had snapped. The intimidating Russian lifted up his hand which did not hold the pipe – and pointed his gun at Feliks. "You'll regret this, da." He hissed.

"N-No!" I squeaked, my voice croaking. "I-Ivan!"

"Don't worry, da." Ivan growled. "I would not kill him so easily." He lowered the gun until it was pointing at Feliks' leg. He flipped the safety off, and pulled the trigger. Feliks didn't scream. He didn't fall to his knees. He gritted his teeth together and tears welled up in his eyes, but he stayed standing – albeit wobbling alarmingly – and kept that hateful glare on Ivan.

"Shoot me as much as you damn well want." Feliks spat, hands clenched into tight fists. Blood was dribbling down his leg, staining his trousers and pooling on the floor.

"It didn't have to be like this, da." Ivan sighed. "You could have just agreed to be with me. Then at least Toris would have been safe, da."

"Y-You'd get bored of me eventually." Feliks retorted, swaying. "You'd come back for him."

Sirens blasted outside, and suddenly there were voices in the other room. Footsteps, shouting. Ivan snarled maliciously and threw his gun to the other side of the room. "You're probably right, da..." He muttered, resting the pipe gently on Feliks' head. "But I don't care, da." He lifted it up with both hands, and still Feliks stared at him confidently, unfazed by the _bullet wound_ and still with that spark of defiance in his eyes that he always had. Ivan poised the pipe high in the air, ready to strike.

"Like, _do it_." Feliks grinned, his eyes still watery with tears and blood still spilling from his leg. That spark in his eyes and that smile on his face proved that no matter what, he was definitely stronger than Ivan. Tears dripped even more ferociously down my cheeks. Feliks' gaze met mine, and his smile softened.

"Fe-Feliks..." I mumbled.

The footsteps quickened, and there were policemen coming in through the door. "_Freeze_!" One shouted, pointing his gun at Ivan.

"Freeze, da?" Ivan growled. "Not likely."

He brought the pipe down, and the policeman pulled the trigger. Ivan fell down beside me, a bullet hole in the centre of his chest. He didn't move. I gaped at him for a second; surprised that Feliks hadn't shouted my name. Then I looked up. He lay against the wall, blood dripping down his face and medics surrounding him. Two of them lifted him up and another wrapped something around his head.

"We need to get to the hospital, _now_!" One of the medics shouted, and they carried him out of the room. I stood up, swaying from side to side and feeling overwhelmingly dizzy. Another medic rushed over to me.

"Sir, if you could sit down, we can wrap your arm up and then get you to the hospital?"

I had no idea what to say, so I obliged and sat down, speechless. Was he going to survive? What was going to happen? _Why did he do it_? The police were on their way, he didn't have to. But he did. Even when the bullet hit him, he barely flinched. When the medics were carrying him away, he still had that defiant smile on his face.  
><em>Why<em>?

"I-Is he going..." I began. "T-To survive?"

The medic tied a bandage around my arm and shrugged. "Yes, probably. But he still might not wake up... he got hit pretty hard..."

He might not wake up.

Feliks had sacrificed everything. For me.

The next few months were a haze of questioning and visiting the police station. Ivan was officially declared dead, and Feliks survived in a comatose state. I lost the apartment, and one of my co-workers let me move in with him – Eduard was often questioned by the police too, we all were. About Ivan, the business, the beatings. How Feliks had become involved, _what his relation to me was_.  
>The months merged into one another, and Feliks had been in a coma for over a year.<p>

It had taken only one year for him to turn into a routine for me. I remembered every detail of how he had saved me, and yet I still always felt as though I _had_ to visit him. I sat on that chair outside his room and cried into my hands. I don't know how long I was out there for, but I cried for every single minute. It wasn't fair, what had happened. It should have been me, not him.  
>I should have just told Ivan to kill me – I shouldn't have tried to hold on. If I'd just died then and there, then maybe Feliks would have been okay. He'd have been upset and he might have had trouble with the rent, but he'd have been okay.<p>

"You can go and see him now – he's been stabilised." A doctor said, emerging from the room and looking down at me, a sympathetic smile on his face. "He'll be okay."

_He'll be okay_. "Th-Thank you." I mumbled. The other doctors and nurses left the room, apart from one, who was fixing a tube of something to him when I entered.

"Is he ever going to wake up?" I blurted out when I saw her.

She looked round and smiled at me. "They often do!" She shrugged. "Not always, but often."

"He's been out for over a year..." I felt tears pricking in my eyes again.

"I'm sure he'll be okay." She walked round to the other side of the bed and picked up a boot that was underneath the bed. "I'm sure he wouldn't leave you and these _lovely_ shoes behind."

I didn't bother to give her a polite laugh.

"Someone must have spilt something, though." She frowned. "There's a stain on one side! What a shame."

I was quite thankful when the nurse left, since I had no idea of how to respond to the slightly inappropriate comments about his shoes. I took a seat next to the bed and grabbed Feliks' hand.

"I'm so sorry." I spluttered, tears rolling down my cheeks again. "It should have been me, Feliks. Ivan was _my_ boss and I should have stood up to him myself. I should have let him kill me. I should have told you about it sooner. I should have stopped him. I'm sorry." I fell forwards and let my head rest on his unmoving hand, sobbing uncontrollably. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Uh, Liet, like, did the nurse say my boot was _stained_?"

No way. I looked up to confirm the source of that weak and croaking voice. Feliks' head was still resting on the pillow, but his eyes were half open, and he was smiling at me. His hair was tangled, his eyes were slightly glazed over, he was incredibly pale and hooked up to several machines, but he looked more beautiful than ever, and for the first time in ages – a grin broke out on my face. _He was awake!_

"_Feliks_!" I shouted, springing to my feet. "_You're awake!"_

"'Course." Feliks grunted, yawning. "Sorry it took so long..."

"No, _no_!" I grabbed his other hand. "I'm sorry for getting you into this, Feliks!"

"Don't sweat it." Feliks lifted his head a little and stretched his legs out. "Did they like, fix my leg?"

"You could have _died_!" I bent forward and kissed his forehead. "I should have told you sooner, I'm sorry, _I love you_."

Feliks nodded. "I love you too." His smile widened. "You'll, like, buy me some new boots, right?"

I laughed. He really was back. "Of course I will."


End file.
